


sweetest taste is never gonna leave you

by Anonymous



Category: Vinland Saga (Manga)
Genre: Bad BDSM Etiquette, Brother/Brother Incest, M/M, Modern AU, Omorashi, Puppy Play, Sibling Incest, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:47:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21960436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Olmar continues to entertain.
Relationships: Thorgil/Olmar (Vinland Saga)
Kudos: 9
Collections: Anonymous





	sweetest taste is never gonna leave you

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to [developed dependence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21673531). Lots of grooming/gaslighting just like the last one, but this is more consensual... Olmar thinks. @ vincestsaga on twitter for more brocontent.
> 
> (no one drinks the pee despite the title)

"You ready, babe?" The voice is disarmingly sweet, one Olmar's gotten to know pretty well lately. His brother wants him to do something.

"Y-Yes."

"Yes...?" Still the syrupy voice. But Olmar knows Thorgil's willing to follow up if he doesn't answer fast enough, so he makes his answer fast.

"Yes, sir." He always remembers the _sir_ at this point, but his brother scritches his chin when he has to correct himself. Positive reinforcement. So he pretends to forget for a second.

They don't do the puppy thing all the time. Thorgil's barely ever here, for one thing. Even though he didn't take any leave at all for years, the days didn't roll over. So he can only visit for a day or two at a time. Olmar's hoping he can stop being so embarrassed about all this stuff. Maybe Thorgil will want to take longer breaks then. Or even quit the army, period—which Olmar knows, inside, he's never going to do just over his little brother. And he shouldn't, because it's cool and it's what he's good at. But Olmar still thinks about it happening.

The puppy nights, though, are the only times Olmar knows what he is these days. Because Thorgil tells him, a whole bunch, on those nights. The rest of the time he's not sure.

When he's at school he thinks even less about school than he used to. When he's anywhere else, he thinks about where his brother must be right now. Even more than he used to. And a lot of the time, not all of it but a lot, he thinks about what Thorgil's going to do to him, the next time they can be together. So he's not sure what his occupation is, right now. Thorgil said "sex slave" once, but then he laughed pretty hard, so it might have been a joke.

They do video calls, now, which is pretty cool. It doesn't seem like anyone would bother doing video calls with a sex slave. The first time he had to put a plug in his butt, which was _so_ embarrassing but it was the first time Thorgil ever called him or sent him anything in the mail. So he did it, just so they could keep talking. He thinks Thorgil likes the calls. Even if sometimes he just makes Olmar do homework while he watches.

He looked all this stuff up on the Internet, and the homework thing might be something called service submission, which is where you make somebody do boring stuff that sucks, but because you really care about them. Plus Olmar's allowed to complain about it, which he isn't for the puppy stuff. It's like a normal big brother thing, making you do something that's good for you. The only time homework's ever gotten him anything.

The other thing he looked up was collars, which come in more types than the one Thorgil got him. Sometimes they're part of a commitment ceremony. Where the person in charge of you promises to be in charge of you forever, like in a wedding or something. Olmar tried going out for a run to stop thinking about that, but he had to come back inside and jerk off instead.

The collar Thorgil got him is a plain black one. He said it was expensive, and the color's so it stands out. "On that nice soft skin," he said, his thumb scraping the hollow of Olmar's throat and making him whine. He's not allowed to keep it locked up and he had to beg for his name to not be on it in huge letters. Thorgil said that was okay, after he proved he could sit up and beg like a smart doggy who knows his own name. 

It's a different plug he's got in now. Thorgil picked this one, like he picks all of them, because he says he's the one who's gonna be looking at them the most. They've been getting bigger, and this one is new enough to be a little uncomfortable. There's a tail coming out of it, which at least makes it easy to tell which end's supposed to go in. The tail was tickling his ass the whole time he had to be down on the floor drinking water. Then he got to be up on the couch like a person, and they talked about normal stuff until he started to squirm, and that's when his brother's arm pulled him in real gentle and laid Olmar down across his lap.

In his lap it's impossible to say no to anything. Which Thorgil knows. But he always makes Olmar be in human mode for a little bit so he can give the consent, which he says is really important. Otherwise what they're doing would be fucked up.

"If you're sure you're ready," Thorgil says, "I guess we'd better get you down off the couch before you ruin it."

He had to buy the pad on the floor himself, in person. It's for really big dogs with incontinence issues, but Olmar was so red in the face that it was probably obvious. "For a really bad dog," he forced out, right before dropping his wallet.

At least he bought so many it'll be a long time before he ever has to do that again. He moves slowly down onto the pad, trying not to upset his bladder too much. Thorgil is already kneeling next to him when he finally gets himself sat down.

"This soft little belly," Thorgil breathes, his hand almost covering Olmar's stomach. "I just can't decide how much I wanna mark you up. I'm not gonna get do-overs if I change my mind."

Olmar whimpers, both from the strong hand pressing down—not over his bladder, but it's just a matter of time—and because he doesn't want to get hit. Or cut, or burned, or any of the stuff he read about people doing. But that's probably just a matter of time too.

"You're in mint condition, you know. I should write Dad a thank-you note for keeping you so healthy for me." He gathers Olmar up halfway into in his arms, careful to keep his lower half on the pad, and rubs his chest. "Pretty much feral, of course, but you're young. And I'm ready to put in the time."

There's nothing Olmar could say back even if he was allowed to talk. Thorgil's hand is working up his throat, stroking just enough to feel good and squeezing just enough to be scary. The only thing coming out is a series of helpless doggy groans. His head leans back and he looks at the ceiling and tries to not to melt badly enough to wet already.

"Oh, yeah, you wanna piss yourself for me. Remember how you begged for my cock that first time? Down on your knees, licking my hands until I gave in. Little purebred bitch boy, going into heat on my first night home in years."

Olmar tries to pull his bladder up on the inside. Tighten it, or something. The good news is he's more than half hard now, which should help a lot.

"There's a real good boy hiding in here." Thorgil's voice is back to the sweet one he uses for all his worst teasing. "I know there is. The sluttiest bottoms always train up the best. ‘Cuz they _like_ being mastered."

Fully hard now. Olmar still can't believe his dick likes this stuff now, but it just happens. He can't help it. And his brother keeps making him want things, and letting him have what he wants, and it's never enough. 

"Not ready to break, huh? That's good, you got through round one." Thorgil lays him down on his back. "Show Master your teeth." Olmar opens his mouth and feels the bone go in. "Good boy. Close." It fits between his teeth when he bites down. It's not a gag, just a toy shaped like a doggy bone. Nothing special keeping it in his mouth.

Because the whole point of the game is that Olmar can lose.

"Now I'm not gonna punish you if you mess up here. It's just, however long you last, that's how long you get when I let you lick me all over. And I'm gonna have my hand on your little head the whole time you're licking me."

Olmar nods. He's doing this mostly to get up at Thorgil's face. He hasn't been allowed up there in months, even when Thorgil's been around. A couple of nice nights where he got to rest his head on his brother's midsection in bed, but every time he tried moving up, the fingers tightened in his hair, hard enough to hurt. And he knows better than to try breaking the rules while Thorgil's asleep. That would _really_ hurt.

"What you're gonna do now is get down on your back. You're getting pretty good at that lately. Show a little pride in that pedigree, boy. Just look at this pretty hair." He yanks it. Which you're not supposed to do to an actual dog, but seems to be okay for a person dog.

Olmar thinks Thorgil's long hair is a lot prettier than his, but he doesn't need any obedience training to know _that_ never needs to come out of his mouth. He tries to look dignified, which is hard when you're trying to lie down without rocking your bladder.

"Gooood doggy," Thorgil says, and it goes straight to his dick and makes his thighs squeeze a little. It's a weird hot sting he feels then. One he feels every day, especially after a night of drinking. Just not this bad, usually, or lying down naked on the floor. Usually.

This whole thing is a little like jerking off, and he can see now why people do it. It's a bunch of pressure around your junk, and it keeps building, and you know that eventually it's gonna come out of you whether you want it to or not. He just has to make it last as long as he can this time. And he's been getting better at doing that when he jerks off for his brother, so it makes sense that he'd be able to make this last too.

Maybe he's going to have to start filming himself waiting to pee, too. Except it doesn't seem like that would be as interesting to watch.

"You've got some good breeding behind you," Thorgil says, starting to stand up. "Same breeding as me. Funny how you came out a cute little puppy and me a big strong human man. Maybe I should make believe I'm a doggy too, huh? Try and get into your widdle puppy brain? All that Animal Planet bullshit?"

He's trying to trick Olmar into giving the consent again, which he's not supposed to do now, because it means talking. Olmar lies there being good and focuses on trying to capture that morning wood feeling, like his dick's too hard to let any pee out, no matter how much it wants to.

"You know how doggies talk to each other, right? I'm not talking about the ass-sniffing —although you're probably gonna be begging for that later."

The sound of a zipper going down. Olmar's getting even harder and his hands are itching to get down and start playing with himself.

"Ready for a little doggy study session? I think you're gonna learn a lot."

A hot, wet spray coats his belly, and he lies there meekly with everything exposed, letting his brother piss on him. It feels good. Almost gentle. Even Thorgil can't pee hard enough to hurt. He wants the smell to linger and make people smell _strong man_ on him.

He wants to walk around smelling like his brother's piss. Great. But dogs are allowed to want that. So right now, Olmar's a dog. He bites down on the rubber bone, holding it under his tongue so it doesn't taste so bad.

The spray keeps coming so long he starts to imagine a hose up there. Thorgil must've been drinking even more than he did. Of course he'd need to. And of course it wouldn't show, because he'd never let it.

A sigh of satisfaction from above him, and it finally stops. The smell is sharp and seems to fit perfectly with the crisp sound of Thorgil's zipper going back up. This must be what a gas station urinal feels like when his brother's out on the road.

"Look who got all relaxed," Thorgil says, crouching now and stroking a spot on his hip where none of it ran down. "You must be feeling real nice and warm. I think you're leaking a little bit."

"No!" Olmar sits up, horrified, the bone dropping out of his mouth almost unnoticed. He was being so careful, he couldn't have let go just because he got a little bit distracted. He didn't even feel anything, but everything's so warm and wet he can't really tell.

"Oops." He can hear the grin without even looking. "Do I hear a doggy trying to make human sounds?"

He whines a little, trying to curve his arms up like he's begging. It's no good. It just makes him feel more pathetic.

Thorgil lifts his cock for a second, examining it. "Oh, my mistake. You're fine. Except you're forgetting your place pretty bad, huh? I think you've gotta roll over for Master. Show me some of that training stuck."

Turning over with the plug up against his bladder is agony, the shape of it feeling ten times bigger than it really is, standing out sharp with every slight movement. Olmar does it, slowly, and lies there with his brain still struggling to figure out if the sensation is pain or pleasure. He already knows he's going to feel the hand on his back, pressing down too firmly for resistance, and when it comes he can't do anything but let himself go into the relief of having it decided for him. He manages a feeble whimper as it all leaks out of him, his belly flattening into the pad as the pad gets warmer and wetter.

The pee comes out not fast or slow, but steady, at a pace nothing can change, and when it's done he comes into the pad before the surface can even cool. It's a weird soft, relaxed orgasm that feels only a little better than the peeing, but leaves him quivering like he just threw up at 3 AM. His brother's hand is still pressing down on him and he tries to feel grounded by that instead of all the piss he's lying in.

The pad starts to feel wet even under his face. He's crying a little in frustration even though his body's too empty to feel it much. He was going to try _so_ hard and now all he gets is a few seconds. He might not even make it up to the face if Thorgil thinks he did a bad job, because sometimes he has to get him from soft to hard before he's allowed to keep moving up.

Also, he's covered in piss.

Olmar sniffles and hiccups, trying not to start really crying, as if there's even any water left in there to cry with. Then he feels his brother's big arms picking him up, unmistakable even with the towel separating them.

"Let's get you cleaned up." Thorgil's voice rumbles through him right down to the bones, like it's clearing everything out of him, jogging everything loose that's stalled, and he does start to cry.

Another towel moves briskly, over his front, his legs, his crotch. Then a third towel. Then something soft and warm on his face. Something wet. For a few seconds he doesn't get why his face needs to be sponged off, and then he realizes.

Thorgil's making a big show of licking his lips when Olmar opens his eyes. "Not bad. Honestly, I thought you'd break when I pissed on you. That must've been more than a minute, all in all."

Olmar almost breaks the rule again, then remembers at the last second and touches his throat mutely. A nod tells him human mode is okay again. "What do you mean, more than a minute? How much longer?"

"I told you, I thought you'd break pretty quick. I didn't have a timer or anything." Thorgil tosses another towel on his head, a dry one. "Get the rest of it quick, or it'll get sticky. Then you can have your reward."

"B-But..." Olmar feels his lip trembling again. "Can't I wait? It's gonna be so short, and I can't even think straight, and..." He wipes his nose desperately with the towel. "I just wanna be able to appreciate it right."

Thorgil's thumb lifts another tear off his face. "You think these taste different from pain tears?"

Olmar watches him lick it off, almost thoughtfully. "Can I wait?" he says again, plaintive. "Please?"

"Aw, babe. Did I say you only got _one_ reward? Don't get so upset, you did everything I wanted."

Olmar wipes his nose again with the towel. "I-I thought you said..." He stops, not sure now what Thorgil promised, and looks to his brother for help.

"You're a doggy, remember?" He ruffles Olmar's hair and Olmar's heart swells. "You don't have to get what Master's saying, exactly. As long as you end up doing what he wants."

"Oh."

"You have to use your head with puppies, you know." His hand slides down to the back of Olmar's neck and keeps rubbing, slowly. "Work with their slow little brains. Trick them into thinking they're eating and running and peeing wherever they want. Right, you spaced-out puppy, you?"

Olmar realizes his mouth's open and his head is listing to one side. "I—uh, y-yeah. Right."

"God, I can't believe no one ever snatched you up. Subbiest little boy in the whole fucking pet store." Thorgil sighs with satisfaction and adds his other hand to the side of Olmar's head, kneeling right on the pad and rubbing Olmar's jaw until his neck feels loose and weak. "I kinda wanna kick you down the stairs and let you lick my balls until you forget it ever happened. See how long that takes your poor doggy brain to overwrite."

Olmar's head sags into Thorgil's chest. His head feels so good. He likes his big brother's strong hands. He likes having his head on Thorgil's chest while he's talking.

"Of course, you're pretty fucking stupid even for a dog," says Thorgil, and the laugh that bursts from his chest makes Olmar blink and shake his head in confusion. "Come on, puppy. You did a good job, I just wanted some piss and tears. Now you're getting sticky. I'm gonna have to give you a doggy bath."

The bath is nice. Thorgil carries him there even though it gets his clothes all gross, and the water is warm and Thorgil touches him a lot. He comes again in the bath, but it's allowed to be a human one, so he says, "Big bro," a bunch because they both like that. Then Thorgil says after he gets his licking time in, they can sleep cuddled up tonight, and he's going to have his arms around Olmar the whole night as long as he doesn't hump in his sleep. And Olmar's ready to come again right there, if only he hadn't just done it. And then the collar goes back on, now that he's clean again.

On the couch, he gets to lie down with his face on his brother's thigh, and Thorgil scratches his throat under the collar in a way that feels so, so much better than it could without. He can feel himself starting to drool, and his leg twitches occasionally from how good and relaxed everything feels. There's something on the TV, but he's barely paying attention and his eyes must be glassy anyway with all the good feelings Thorgil's letting him have.

"That's my good boy," Thorgil says, and Olmar groans happily. There's a warm hand on his head and his big brother wants him here. It feels so good hearing that and knowing exactly what he is.


End file.
